Little Butch Magazine

Early summer evening. Smell of wet pavement.
The line forms early — that’s the whole point.
Tickets scanned.
Eyes struggling to adjust to the dark interior.
Heartbeat climbing as the dance floor comes into view.

The thing that limits analog watches is the exact reason I wear one.
They only do one thing — tell time.

Spring Equinox.
Finally.
But after weeks of waiting, it arrives as just another quiet Friday.

Two weeks before the spring equinox.
USDA Zone 6b — two long months before the last frost date.
Still too cold to get into the garden.

The work trip occupies an odd space: structured days, unfamiliar environments, and hotel rooms that never quite feel welcoming.

Packing becomes less about efficiency and more about maintaining a sense of ease, authority, and minor but meaningful comforts.